SOLSTICE EVE

On Tuesday, December 20th, at the Park Creek ski area, the grooming Yankee Forker and his assistant, the bearded Emmonite, planned on packing out trails to the farthest reaches of that ski area through, as of yet, untracked snow. Davinius wished them  lots of luck. It was Solstice Eve and the sun seemed barely alive. Snowflakes filled the sky, weighing down tree limbs and blowing across drifted meadows. The electricity flickered on and off as power lines sagged, flashing fiery sparks. Not a fit day for man nor beast thought Davinius as he remembered grooming through the deep snowdrifts bordering Alturas lake. On Monday, he had rolled the ski trail across Alturas Creek and all the way to the Lake, where he’d been rewarded with a vision of two bald eagles soaring and floating above the ice on howling wind currents. “What could that have meant?” he wondered, as he turned and headed back to the highway, rolling more soft corduroy along Sheep Thrills, Wapiti, the Connector, South Loop and Over the Hill. He had no doubt that those eagles loved one another and his thoughts turned to the pretty girl from the village.